


Creature (Dis)Comfort

by Blue Snow (kylocatastrophe), connorssock



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Animal Genitalia, Bestiality, Blood, Body Horror, Hank Is Not Nice, Human-Dog Connor, Human-Dog Nines, Injury, Knotting, M/M, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Minor Reed900, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Physical Abuse, Psychological Horror, Sex Toys, monster fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 10:48:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20655995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kylocatastrophe/pseuds/Blue%20Snow, https://archiveofourown.org/users/connorssock/pseuds/connorssock
Summary: Nobody had taken Nines' disappearance seriously. So Connor had taken it upon himself to track him down to his last known location - a dilapidated house with an overly friendly and helpful contact. Not that Connor really remembers that, as far as he's concerned, his life started the moment he woke up in Zlatko's house, a trained guard dog hybrid, trained as protection for his new master - Hank Anderson, Lieutenant on the police force as far as everyone knew but he was also a cruel and strict hand in the underground. He now owned Connor and was in charge of everything from his diet to his pleasure.





	Creature (Dis)Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the amazing art by Blue Snow (@rk8inches on Twitter) for the Hankcon Reverse Big Bang. Make sure to give the art lots of love in the comments!
> 
> Beta read by the lovely Author of Kheios - thank you so much for all your wonderful input into this!
> 
> This is best viewed with a darker theme on ao3 for full appreciation of images and their transparency - Reversi is recommended.  
Furthermore, heed the warnings. Connor becomes something that is no longer human, and how much of what makes one human that remains is dubiously up for interpretation. Still, what if there was something there?

The address in Nines’ notebook led Connor to a seemingly poor but well kempt house. It was obviously somewhere that didn’t have a lot of money but the owner made do to the best of their ability. This was the last place Nines had been seen, it was where the trail had gone cold. The police hadn’t bothered to follow his concerns up beyond filing a report and giving him a case number. Each time Connor called, tried to chase up for any news, he was fobbed off. So he’d taken matters into his hands. Digging through Nines’ personal things had been hard but at long last Connor had found what he needed; his brother’s notebook full of all his contacts as a journalist. His informants and those willing to slip him a story on the sly. It took a look of courage to phone them, most didn’t want to speak to Connor but a few offered help.

It turned out, Nines had been working on a story. A big one at that, centred around police corruption and the spate of abductions in the area. Just reading up on his notes chilled Connor to the bone. Some of the suppositions involved almost brutally inhumane acts. Humans rebuilt into mindless, obedient creatures, experiments on those society wouldn’t miss. Well, whoever it was that had Nines obviously miscalculated because Connor was coming for him, even if the police weren’t.

He stood in front of the door and took a deep breath. This was Zlatko’s house, someone allegedly with insider information who Nines had tracked down through who knew what means. Beyond the door lay answers hopefully, there was no time to worry. Connor took a deep breath and knocked. On the second knock the door slowly cracked open and someone peered out from the darkness.

“Mr. Zlatko? I’m Connor, looking from my brother Nines. I believe you were one of the last people to see him?”

The door opened wide as the man inside smiled at him.

“Come on in, Connor,” he sounded friendly enough, “I will help however I can. I trust Nines is well?”

They settled in the parlour with delicate cups of warm tea. It helped Connor open up, talk about Nines and his worries. Zlatko put him at ease, encouraged him to talk, share Nines’ worries about police corruption. The tea helped soothe Connor’s nerves, and the more he relaxed, the more the couch seemed to swallow him up.

“You know,” Zlatko mused, “I think I might have something that could help with your investigation. It’s something Nines left here once, when I showed him some evidence in the cellar. Come on, I’ll show you.”

Zlatko extended a hand towards Connor and effortlessly pulled him up. It made Connor giggle a little and he followed his host out of the parlour and down a set of bare, concrete stairs. There were stains and scratches on the walls, some kind of creepy interior design that Connor assumed was thanks to a fondness of the horror genre. Those films always had such things on the walls leading into the cellar. It made the room spin just enough to make Connor feel ever so slightly tipsy-drunk, a feeling he dismissed as a combination of exhaustion and a warm house as he followed his host down the stairs. He stumbled past a stable door from within which a deep growl echoed. It made Connor laugh.

“I think your cellar might be haunted.”

“It may well be. There’s certainly a lot of unusual activity that goes on down here. Take this for example.” Zlatko was standing in the middle of a sterile room. There were implements, body parts in display cases - both human and animal. In his hand, he held a mask. “This here is the most unusual. No matter who I show it to, they all say it smells different. Smells like their childhood. What do you think?”

Connor all but tripped on his feet as he swayed towards the mask, intrigued. He lifted it to him nose and took a deep breath.

“It smells like-” The words came out slurred; his tongue felt thick.

“You dumb bitch,” Zlatko sneered, “thicker than that idiot brother of yours.”

Before Connor could ask what that meant, the world went black.

~~~~~

Word from the supplier finally reached Hank. His order had been successfully fulfilled this time, and at a quicker rate than expected; the first time round had been a disaster. He pushed away from his desk with a smug grin. There were some things worth waiting for and a good guard dog was one of them. He briefly wondered what his new guard would look like. The first attempt had been good but a little too volatile. Cold blue eyes that held not a single shred of humanity in them, sharp teeth that had been hellbent on ripping his throat out despite the muzzle it had been fitted with. A beautiful creation without a doubt but a killer through and through, without remorse. Hank had wanted something a little more deceptive. Allegedly, Zlatko had just the thing for him now.

He made his way to the house Zlatko operated out of. There was no way he lived in the old house, it was too big and too isolated for a man like him. However, all his experiments and creations were there, made and trained in the complex until they were exactly what the customer ordered. Hank never bothered trying to find out how it all worked, content to just accept that he was dropping a huge wad of cash on something that wasn’t exactly illegal as long as nobody could prove what it was.

Being a cop with one foot in the seedy underbelly of the criminal world had left him in a vulnerable position. He needed protection because rivals he’d used his position in the law against were keen to get revenge. While none could prove in the courts of law that he wasn’t as wholesome as his image and position in polite society suggested, it didn’t stop them from taking more nefarious swipes at him. Namely, assassins and hitmen who were all too keen to get money for a quick and dirty job.

He knocked on the door and waited for Zlatko to answer.

“I’ve come to collect what’s mine,” he greeted. There was no point in pretending he was polite. Zlatko knew who he was, both in the police and in the criminal world; Hank wasn’t one to be messed with or kept waiting.

“I think you’ll be pleased with your investment.” Zlatko led him through the house to a utility area. It had been stripped bare save for six metal circles on the wall. Four of them were bare. One had Hank’s first order tied to it, sedated just enough that while it snapped and snarled behind its muzzle, it couldn’t even muster up the energy to strain against its chain leash. In the opposite corner was what Hank assumed to be his actual order.

He had to do a double take when he saw it. Near enough a spitting image of the first attempt was a creature, rich dark hair on a slightly softer face, its eyes were brown and gentle, but Hank had no doubt they could switch to hyperfocus in a split second. He had asked for an obedient killer, after all.

“Let’s see what it can do,” he smiled.

The whistle from Zlatko had it perking up, eyes trained on its temporary master. Behind them, the first creation grumbled.

“Sit,” Zlatko commanded. Instantly, it sat.

“Lie.” It lay down.

“Roll over,” Zlatko laughed when it rolled, exposing its stomach to them without hesitation. “Good bitch.”

“Does it have a name?”

“It will respond to Connor.”

Hank moved to inspect it. When he reached to grip Connor’s chin, his hand was snapped at. A swift backhand sent it reeling along with a firm “no”. Behind him, Zlatko didn’t say anything and the abomination in the other corner snarled, frothy spit at the corners of its mouth, too full of sharp teeth.

“Stay still and take it,” Hank hissed, one hand tugging the slip leash around Connor’s neck tight. It was a choking hold, and he watched as Connor’s tongue lolled from his mouth, struggling to breathe. Once satisfied that Connor was going to behave, he loosened his hold. His fingers skimmed along Connor’s body, feeling his bone structure and muscle mass. There was no seam he could detect where body parts had been sewn together. His resources had been right, Zlatko did make the finest creations. He patted down Connor’s flank, tipped his head up to look in his mouth, and grinned.

“Exactly what I ordered.” Almost absentmindedly, he lifted Connor’s back leg and whistled appreciatively. “They weren’t wrong, you do as told, no questions asked.”

“Money speaks but I’m sure you know that.”

Hank let Connor go and turned to Zlatko, “I’ll take him.”

“Excellent.”

The leash was untied from the metal circle and handed to Hank.

“Heel,” he barked and Connor obediently moved into position.

The door out to the garden was opened and Zlatko began to lead them in the direction. From behind, the snapping and growling turned to a pitiful whine. Curious, Hank turned. The piercing blue eyes tracked his and Connor’s movements. No doubt, in a previous life, it was related to Connor. Perhaps even remembered shards of memories. Its mind had been too broken to be able to interrogate and find out where the training had failed.

“What will you do with it?” Hank asked and gestured towards the creature with a jut of his chin.

“It will be destroyed. No buyer will want it.”

“Huh. Can you recycle the parts?”

Annoyed, Zlatko shook his head. It made Hank smile and he made a gesture that would have been generous from anyone else, anyone with better morals.

“I’ll take it off your hands. Save you having to ruin such fine work. If it needs to be put down, I’ll deal with it. Sedate it and load it into a transport cage for me, will you?”

Suspicious, Zlatko’s eyes narrowed but in the end, he relented. It saved him the hassle of having to dispose of the body and took the violent creature off his hands. It wasn’t like Hank had planned for it, but the opportunity had seemed too good to waste. He couldn’t help but think that Gavin would enjoy breaking the creature in, taming it the same way Gavin himself had been. That, Hank mused, had been an event in itself; Gavin had been a loose cannon, fiery and amoral, but had principles he stuck to, convincing him to ally with Hank had been all too easy. It had been one of the best decisions Hank had ever made.

Ruthless and volatile, Gavin had made the perfect right hand man and he deserved a reward. What better than a creature for him to mold as he saw fit? One as violent as he liked to be. Rather than watch the muzzled creature be pinned down and sedated, Hank turned towards the sunshine in the garden and tugged at Connor’s leash. He’d leave Gavin’s gift for him later that evening, perhaps with a few items to help him manage. Like a reinforced cage, a spare muzzle and a name.

That evening, he left Connor in a cage of his own in the kitchen.

“Any noise and you give them hell, got it?” he asked, not expecting a reply. Connor glanced at him through the bars and averted his eyes. At least he seemed to understand that Hank was the alpha of the household. For the first time in years, Hank slept better than he could remember.

Around the house, Connor was quiet, glued to Hank’s side like an obedient dog. When left home alone, he curled up in his crate silently and waited for his master’s return. There were times Hank wondered just how much Connor could remember of his previous life. One evening, he was sat in front of the TV, Connor was by his feet and dozing. His paws twitched and little whuffs and whines escaped his throat as he dreamt. The more Hank watched him, the more he was convinced there was more to Connor than some dumb beast. But each time such a thing occurred to him, he’d watch how gormlessly lax the beast’s face went as he scratched an itch, and he’d re-evaluate his ideas.

“For fuck’s sake Connor, stop your scratching!” Hank swatted at Connor’s shoulder. Instantly, the back leg dropped and Connor cowered with a whine. As he watched Hank with big, sad, brown eyes, the back leg began to creep up again.

“No, stop it.” The leg lowered. “Argh!” Hank swatted at his own leg as he felt something sting him. He watched in utter disbelief as a flea escaped his palm.

“You filthy fucking beast!” he roared. “Bringing fleas into my home? You disgust me!”

There was nothing for it. He ordered flea shampoo and, because he was feeling generous, made sure to have some sent to Gavin too. There was no word on how he was getting on with Nines, though he did have an impressive bandage hiding under his sleeve as of a couple of days ago. It had made Hank chuckle. He hoped that Nines was teaching Gavin as much in the way of manners as vice versa.

When the flea shampoo finally arrived, Hank went to get everything ready while leaving Connor in his crate. It didn’t take long; the instructions made it fairly clear that all he needed to do was dump Connor in the tub, get him wet, lather him up in the shampoo, leave it on for a few minutes, then rinse. Towelling him dry was an option but Hank was half tempted to just chuck him out into the garden for half an hour. He was still mulling over the idea of whether to use cold or warm water as he called Connor.

The soft clack of claws stopped in the doorway and Connor peered in.

“I said come here,” Hank grumbled impatiently. For effect, he pointed to the ground next to him. Head hanging, Connor slinked in, legs slightly bent as he tried to appear smaller. Without warning, Hank scooped him up, ready to put him in the tub. He didn’t expect Connor’s four limbs to push out in rigid resistance along with a whine. Powerful legs kicked against the tub, stopping Hank from placing him in there.

“No,” the word didn’t register at first. “Please, no!” Connor’s head whipped from side to side.

Hank gripped tight and Connor yelped where fingers dug into his side.

“If you dare bite me, I will muzzle you. Now get in the fucking tub before I hose you down in the garden.”

Reluctantly obedient, Connor let himself be dumped in the tub where he cowered, quivering and not quite looking at Hank.

“You can speak?” Hank asked finally, once he had a chance to think about it.

“Sorry,” his voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper, tail tucked between shaking legs.

“Huh,” Hank hummed and reached for the showerhead. It was impossible to miss the small whimper as he turned the water on and Connor jumped a little. The water turned yellow in the base of the tub and the smell of urine made Hank’s nose scrunch up in disgust.

“Really?”

“Sorry,” Connor whimpered again, his head hanging in shame.

It made for a pitiful picture and something softened in Hank. He lowered the showerhead and reached out to scratch lightly along Connor’s neck and flank. The muscles under his fingers were quaking, bunched up and tense.

“Hey now,” Hank gentled his voice. It somehow felt different, knowing that Connor could speak. “It’s just water, I’ve even got it warm. Then we’ll work the shampoo in, let it sit for a bit and rinse it off.”

There was no choice for Connor, he was going to have to endure the bath. Even with a slightly kinder attitude, there was no refusing Hank. That would have had consequences. Hank turned the spray of warm water on Connor and watched as he flinched again. With quick motions, he drenched Connor and reached for the shampoo. He squeezed a good amount into his palm and began to work it into a lather across Connor’s back and chest. As the instructions said to cover all of the body except the face, Hank set about making sure Connor’s legs and tail were also coated. To try and ease some of the terror, he worked his fingers over the muscles with scritches. When he got to the base of the tail, Connor gave a little wriggle and a whine.

“You like that, do you?” Hank chuckled and gave the sensitive spot another good scratch. There was a blush spreading across Connor’s cheeks and sadistic realisation dawned. “Oh you really like that, don’t you?”

Hank stopped just as Connor’s back legs started shifting involuntarily, and chuckled at the whine that got trapped in his throat. Deeming him lathered up enough, Hank sat back and waited for the suggested few minutes, ignoring the pitiful glances Connor sent his way. Once over, he turned the water on and sprayed Connor without mercy, ignored the quivering whines until the water ran clear of suds.

“Don’t you dare shake,” Hank growled, too late; water sprayed everywhere and soaked Hank. Instinctively his whipped out a backhand and sent Connor reeling, almost slipping in the tub. After that, he was a lot more obedient, and it was a lot easier to towel him down and lift out of the tub. Even when somewhat dry, Connor stared at the floor in submission. With a wave of his hand, Hank shooed him through the open door. “Go on, out into the garden with you.”

He watched from the kitchen window as Connor stood in the sunshine, short fur drying quickly. Calling him back in, Hank teasingly gave him another scratch at the base of his tail and laughed at the way he squirmed. It gave him an idea and after a quick glance around the living room, he grabbed a pillow from the couch and threw it at Connor.

“Your new best friend,” he winked. After a moment of obvious internal debate, Connor tentatively picked it up in his mouth and then ran to his crate at a speed Hank hadn’t witnessed before.

Later on, when Hank was doing the laundry, he tried not to knowingly smirk when Connor timidly approached, the clean corner of the pillow delicately clasped between his teeth. He didn’t look Hank in the eye and scampered away as soon as the pillow was in the washing machine.

Now that Connor’s true intelligence had been proven, Hank was less afraid of parading him around. He still left him home when at work but the less savoury side of his life, Connor was ready for. Most meetings, Connor was by his feet. Hank didn’t need to tell him when to look alert or when to lie down quietly at his feet. Some meetings, Connor even fell asleep and let out little whuffs as he dreamed.

It really should have been expected, Hank was meeting with one of the heads of families running drugs in the city. He had Connor on a choke chain, settled by his feet while Gavin had Nines muzzled and tense, growls barely contained in his chest. At least the two of them seemed to have come to some sort of mutual understanding; Hank had laughed his ass off when Gavin had turned up at work with his nose busted yet again, and this time with a lovely wound across it. Now though, Gavin was on the other side of the table, leash twisted tight around his fist as Nines snarled by his feet, muzzle digging into his cheeks. By comparison, Connor was peacefully settled next to Hank, chin resting on his paws, and watching everything going on.

When one of the henchmen pulled a knife at Hank, he really shouldn’t have been surprised. He was up from the table and moving carefully away while Gavin tugged Nines with him towards the door. They were going to have to have words with the family, but not when a guy bigger than Hank was lurching towards them, brandishing a knife.

“Connor, attack!” Hank commanded and loosened the leash. At first, nothing happened and Hank yelled again while the head of the family laughed.

“Some guard dog you have there, can’t even attack on command.”

“Connor!” Hank’s voice was a menacing growl. “Now!”

At long last, Connor let out a growl and jumped, teeth bared. He landed on the henchman and let out a sharp cry as the knife sank into his shoulder, slicing down his flank. Despite the injury, he tried to keep going, but now one leg was useless and limp, unable to bear weight. A punch to his ribs floored him even as his teeth sank into a meaty arm and drew a pained cry.

Behind Hank, Gavin was having issues with Nines, who had taken a turn for the worse; he snapped and snarled behind his muzzle, mouth frothing, spittle flying from his lips and trickling down his chin. Despite his bulk, Gavin couldn’t hold on forever and with a grunt, the leash slipped from his hands. With his freedom suddenly granted, Nines flew through the air, uncaring that the muzzle was in the way of his attack. He landed, paws braced against the henchman’s chest, and whipped his head. The muzzle caved under the force and another twisting smack meant he could paw it off. There was no hesitation in him as he sank his teeth into the man’s neck and reared back, tearing flesh and muscle. The body crumpled to the floor and Nines stood over Connor’s gasping, writhing body with blood dripping down his chin. Nobody could approach them. Nines snapped at anyone, bit Gavin on the hand as he approached. His paws were clawing at an ever growing pool of blood.

“Just shoot it. It’s a feral beast,” the head of the family yelled in frustration.

“Shoot him and I will end you much more slowly than he ever could,” Gavin snapped back, clutching his hand to his chest. “Nines,” he barked, “keep this up and he’ll end up dead no matter how much you posture. Let Hank get to him and I’ll see about a reward rather than a punishment tonight.”

“You try to reason with a beast? Laughable!”

However, the head of the family was proven wrong when Nines looked at Gavin with narrowed eyes. A moment later, he turned on the idiot and jumped just as Gavin yelled a “Nines no!” The metal chain leash cracked across Nines’ back and his teeth sank into the head of family’s shoulder rather than throat. More blood dripped down his chin as he turned to glare at Gavin.

They all ignored the pained screaming of the man; Hank tried to approach Connor then and, despite a threatening growl, Nines backed away enough for him to be able to take a look at Connor’s wounds. Shrugging out of his coat, Hank draped it over Connor and picked him up, not missing the whine that was caught in his throat.

“I know, come on, let’s get you home,” he murmured. Behind him, Gavin was promising something to Nines, no doubt the reward he’d mentioned; sometimes, Hank really didn’t want to know what Gavin got up to. He turned all his attention to getting Connor to the car to take him home. A few cars over, Gavin was urging Nines to jump in. Had he been in a better mood, Hank would have laughed at the pink pillow with “Princess” embroidered on it in the boot of the car. The haughty way Nines settled on it suggested he was happy with the choice.

“Come on, you dumb mutt,” Hank sighed when they got to the house.

Inside, Connor whimpered pitifully when Hank laid him down on the kitchen floor.

“Hurts.”

“I know. I need to clean it up for you. This is what you get for not doing as you’re told. Some training you had, if you freeze on the spot. Maybe I ought to take you back to Zlatko for a refresher.”

On the floor, Connor quivered and tried to curl up. However, Hank was having none of it. Without a hint of gentleness, he pinned one knee against Connor’s hip and a hand on his neck. It left his other hand free to pour disinfectant on the wound before dabbing it lightly with a cloth.

“Bite me and I muzzle you for a week,” he threatened when Connor tried to snap at the source of the pain.

On inspection, the wounds didn’t seem too bad. Painful and ugly, sure, but they didn’t require stitches and Hank was content to just leave them be. Out of pity rather than the goodness of his heart, he shoved a few painkillers towards Connor who took them with minimal fuss. There wasn’t much more to do other than let him sleep the shock off and for Hank to get changed. He was definitely going to have to have words with the family again, put them in their place after what had happened.

The next day, he was at the DPD already when Gavin walked in. Perhaps walking was a generous word; he limped slowly to his seat gingerly sat down. Hank watched in fascination as his jaw clenched around a swallowed back gasp. Even more interesting were the very evident bite marks on the back of his neck, left behind by no doubt very sharp teeth. The knowing look Hank sent him was met by a dusting of a blush on Gavin’s cheeks, paired with a challenging hard stare.

“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it,” Gavin muttered over a coffee at lunchtime. He had barely moved all day, but dragged himself over to the machine for a much needed cup. “He fucks like a machine on a mission.”

“A mission to utterly wreck you,” Hank sneered.

“And I will let him do it again.”

Hank snorted and shook his head. Still, he cocked his head to the side and idly watched when Gavin hobbled back to his seat. The idiot obviously got too eager for his own good. Knowing that he had better patience and control than Gavin, Hank could only ponder the what if’s and how’s. Perhaps it was time to crack open his box of toys once again.

At home, he watched as Connor lay stretched out by the sofa. Hank’s eyes were drawn to his cock, mind replaying moments when he’d seen Connor sit down and the pink shiny tip had poked out against his will. Even just that had been sizeable, and Hank wondered what the whole thing looked like. Abruptly uncomfortable, he shifted on the sofa, palm pressed against his cock which was stirring at the ideas that popped up. Mind made up, he left Connor to snooze and retreated to his bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind himself.

He eyed his box of toys. It had been a while since he’d done anything more than a quick jacking off in the shower. There was too much work and he’d been neglecting himself lately. Remorsefully, he set aside Scorch, a dildo in the shape of a dog’s dick, knot and all; it was something he was going to have to work himself up to again. Instead, he pulled out Buck - as the name suggested, based off the narrow but long cock of a buck, much more slender though the girth did increase gloriously - for a first foray back into such play. He had fond memories of the toy.

Stripping down, Hank settled on the bed and listened to a slight scratching at his door. Something in him stirred at the knowledge that Connor was on the other side, no doubt able to hear everything that Hank was up to. There was a delicious edge of glee when Hank realised that he’d not given Connor permission to grab a pillow whenever he needed, and that the one he usually used was hanging to dry in the garden again.

With a soft moan, he lay back on the bed, Buck clutched in one hand while the other teased his hole. A few dry nudges had him shuddering before he had enough and reached for the lube. Despite not having done it in so long, the knowledge never faded and Hank sighed as the first finger breached him. He’d always loved the feel of being stretched, taking more than most thought reasonable. But that was what made it all the better, the subversion of expectations that he wouldn’t bend over for any cock. If the right one came along, he had no objections to riding it until he was silly with pleasure. Another finger squeezed in next to the first. On the other side of the door he could hear a quiet whine. Spurred on by it, Hank slicked up Buck and slowly began to push it in. He’d never been shy about voicing his pleasure and just because Connor was there didn’t mean he was going to start now. Slowly, he fucked himself with the tip, enjoying the way he forced his hole open again and again around it. He angled the toy and thrust it deeper, feeling no shame in the way it punched a gruff shout out of him. It really had been too long; he clenched down on the toy, thighs quivering as he tried to stave off his orgasm. Rather than keeping up the long strokes, Hank switched to shallower thrusts which rubbed just next to his prostate. It made his hips twitch and his free hand curled around his cock, not stroking, just holding it, feeling it pulse under his palm.

Outside his bedroom door, Connor whined again. It spurred Hank on, he started increasing the depths of his strokes again, moaned when he finally let it pass over his prostate. It only took a few more thrusts before he was squeezing his cock as it spurted, hole clenching around the toy while he forced it as deep as he could.

Slightly dazed, he stared at the ceiling until he came down from the high enough to notice the frantic slurps from the other side of the door. Breath catching, Hank pulled the toy from his body and grimaced at the mess on his hand and stomach.

A wicked idea occurred to him and he threw the bedroom door open. From the floor, Connor looked up guiltily, the whole lower half of his face shiny with spit and who knew what else.

“Desperate little bitch in heat, aren’t you?” Hank growled at him, hiding his smile.

The sheepish look Connor gave him was somewhat ruined by the desperate way he licked his lips.

“Do I need to get your damn pillow for you?”

An embarrassed shake of head made Hank let out a chuckle. He stepped over Connor, ignored the way his whole body followed the toy dangling from Hank’s hands, and marched towards the bathroom. There was no doubt in his mind that Connor could see the lube between his cheeks too.

As he suspected, Connor watched him with wide eyes, peering around the doorframe of the bathroom as Hank cleared up.

“You’re such a slut,” Hank groused as he cleaned the toy first. Turning to Connor he gestured to his still filthy stomach. “You want a taste, don’t you? Lick it up, get me nice and clean.”

An eager nod was accompanied by a few tentative, slinking steps into the bathroom as Connor approached with a hopeful look in his eyes. He didn’t get close enough to be able to fulfil his wishes, hoping that Hank would grant him permission first.

“Dirty, filthy mutt,” Hank laughed and watched Connor’s face fall as he turned and washed the mess away instead. “If you’re good, I might treat you next time.”

The disappointed whine only made him laugh more and he made shooing gestures with Buck to get Connor back out of the bathroom.

“You have some visitors tomorrow, better make sure you’re presentable for them.”

The notion made Connor perk up, head tipped to the side. He’d never had visitors before. It made him almost insufferable the next morning as Hank got ready for work; Connor prowled around the house, hid his favourite pillow in his crate, deep under the bedding, and when Hank left the house, Connor was fussing with his hair, licking his paw and trying to get it into place.

That afternoon, Hank pulled up in the driveway and waited for Gavin to park behind him. Still muzzled, Nines grumbled at being tugged off his pillow in the boot of the car but as soon as he was out, his head snapped up as he took a sniff of the air. With a suspicious glance at Gavin, he trotted to the front door and sat patiently in front of it.

“Brat,” Hank chastised him and got a slanted stare for it while Gavin took his sweet time getting to the door too. Idly, he reached for the muzzle and undid it with one hand as Hank opened the door.

“Play nice,” Gavin reminded Nines as they entered the house.

On the other side, Connor was all but vibrating with excitement. His tail whipped wildly from side to side and he pawed at the ground eagerly.

“Well go on then,” Hank urged and that was all Connor needed.

He was up and sniffing Nines without a pause. Both their tails were wagging low as they obviously tried to resist the urge to give a proper sniff. Still, Hank and Gavin stood back and watched with silent laughter as they pressed, first shoulder to shoulder, then slipped past for a delicate whiff of each other’s butts. They seemed to realise at the same time what they were doing and jumped back, casting each other and their humans sheepish glances. Humiliated, Nines turned and stalked into the kitchen. After another look at Hank, who didn’t stop him, Connor followed, and then they were out in the garden, settling down in the sun, curled up together.

“How is he getting on?” Hank asked as he pulled a couple of beers from the fridge.

“He’s a temperamental fucker,” came the offhand remark. “But I think I’ve figured out what makes him tick.”

The leer he sent Hank’s way was cut short as a sharp bark-like something was heard from the garden. They turned as one to look out the window where Connor was in a full play bow in front of Nines.

“Oh shit, Nines is never going to tolerate that.” Gavin reached for the muzzle and leash on the table but he was too slow. In a flash, Nines was up and pouncing on Connor. They hared it around the garden, tumbling and when Nines caught up with Connor, he simply leapt over him to avoid an ungainly tangle of limbs. At times, Connor turned with a wide grin, tongue hanging out the corner of his mouth and jumped up at Nines. It was anticipated; their chests slammed into each other as they both tried to wrestle the other to the ground.

A sharp yip from Connor had them flying apart and Connor limped away, not putting his injured paw on the ground. The betrayed look he shot Nines was made worse as both he and Hank realised that his wound had opened up again and was bleeding.

He reached for a cloth and was ready to try and calm Connor down when Gavin let out a huff of “that’s so gross.” Looking out again, Hank watched as Nines licked meticulously over the wound, eyes half lidded as he worked.

“I bet it’s not the most disgusting thing he’s had in his mouth.” The snicker from Gavin was all he needed to know the answer.

Leaving Connor and Nines to it, they settled by the kitchen table. Hank smirked as Gavin gingerly lowered himself onto the chair. Rather than sit down, Hank had to turn away to hide a snicker and ended up staring out of the kitchen window.

“Look at those two idiots.”

Gavin craned his neck and almost cooed. Nines and Connor were curled up in the sun together, eyes shut even though Nines was still screaming ‘alert and awake’ even as he let Connor sprawl over him.

“They really are something else, aren’t they?”

Gavin snorted and raised his beer in silent agreement.

Outside, Nines basked, head held high. Occasionally he blinked down at Connor and sadness welled up in him without much reason; he only remembered snatches of their time at Zlatko’s. His own arrival and training were a muddy haze, and all he could really recall was pain and fear. But he’d seen Connor arrive on two legs, utterly human. He’d stayed that way for a while until the change began to take effect. It was subtle things at first, slightly sharper teeth and more pointed ears which seemed to migrate higher on his head.

Then the aches began to creep in. It was so insidious at first, a distant gnawing of the bones that, oddly, Nines remembered well; the kind of pain that was brushed off easily to start with until it grew and grew into a crippling inferno. Eventually Connor had hunched over, face pale and drawn, shuffling around his cell rather rather than pacing upright as he had been known to do most days. The shuffling became agonised crawling and tear stained cheeks. His voice cracked on his sobs and turned into howls. Clawing and chewing at limbs didn’t help; it didn’t make the pain recede, didn’t make nails thickening into claws any less grotesque, didn’t stop the tearing of skin that Zlatko carefully sewed shut each time it ruptured.

For a long while Nines was the only one who looked Connor in the eyes and accepted him. Even as short thick fur grew to cover contorted limbs.

Twitching limbs and little whuffs of air drew Nines from his thoughts and he stared down at Connor; he was dreaming, face scrunched into a little frown. It made Nines wonder what dream world he was in; whether he remembered life before Zlatko, because Nines sure didn’t. His life might as well have started with Gavin, because everything before that was a nightmarish blur, and he was content to keep it that way.

Their little sunshine doze was interrupted by Hank and Gavin emerging from the house. Nines growled at them in warning but it was enough to rouse Connor who blinked sleepily at Hank and promptly rolled onto his back, exposing his stomach for tickles. There was no hesitation in Hank as he reached down and thick fingers dug into the fur on Connor’s chest, followed a line down his sides; Hank grinned at the bald patch on his stomach and thighs. Connor let out a little yelp when fingers squeezed around his cock with a chuckle.

“You love it really,” Hank muttered and gave it a few quick pumps until Connor’s hips were twitching. “I’ll let you go to your pillow in a minute. Insatiable slut. But first, say goodbye to your guests.”

Connor quickly rolled to his paws and bumped his head against Nines’ shoulder before turning to Gavin. He sniffed him once and turned to Nines with a surprised but knowing little grin; the “really?” was etched across his face, and Hank laughed while Gavin grumbled away.

“Alright, come on you,” Gavin slipped the choker chain around Nines’ neck and secured the muzzle around the back of his head. They bid their goodbyes and left.

As soon as they were gone, Connor turned big eyes on Hank, who laughed and nodded as he dropped onto the sofa.

“Go get your pillow and bring it here. I want to see you today.”

Obediently, Connor trotted to his crate and pulled it out. Without hesitation, he took it to the living room and settled in front of Hank who was sprawled on the sofa. A hand gesture encouraged him on. “Have at it then.”

Connor immediately pulled the pillow between his legs and shamelessly rutted against it. Peripherally, he heard Hank let out a satisfied groan and spared him a look. His trousers were open, cock pulled through the gap and fingers wrapped around it. He tugged at his cock in time with Connor’s frantic thrusts. All too soon, he was gasping in a now familiar way and Connor focused on his own pleasure with a single minded focus. The pillow caught his spend and panting, he turned to Hank.

“You’ve made me make a mess,” Hank gestured with his clean hand for Connor to approach. “Clean it up. And I don’t want to feel even a hint of your teeth or you’re going in a bare crate for a week. Got it?”

Connor nodded and shuffled closer to him, tongue curling out to lick up the mess on the offered hand. Delicately, he cleaned up every drop, plus the mess on Hank’s t-shirt. By the end, there was only a big patch of slobber on Hank’s stomach and his hand glistened with spit.

“Good boy,” Hank praised him and Connor preened.

“Thank you, Master.” The words were so soft, Hank almost missed them but he looked at Connor with soft surprise.

“You’ll make a decent dog yet.”

There was a subtle shift in their dynamic after that. Nothing obvious but Hank started carrying a special cushion in his car, which he put down by his feet for Connor to curl up on during meetings. At nights, Connor was no longer confined to his crate but rather, he was allowed to curl up at the foot of Hank’s bed.

It got Hank thinking as he watched Connor with the heavy choker chain around his neck by his feet. There was no need for such brutal measures with Connor anymore. By no means was he meek and docile, but he responded to commands well enough. He was so lost in his thoughts, looking down at Connor that Hank missed the run up to the incident. The next thing he knew, there was a gun levelled at him. Like lightning, Connor was up from his feet, silent as he pounced, sharp teeth sinking into the arm before Hank even had to move. The gun went off but fired way too wide; the bullet thudded into the wall in an explosion of dust. The assailant was on the floor and screaming as Connor released his arm, front paws heavy on his chest. Narrowed eyes stared down at his victim, waiting for Hank’s command.

“Finish him,” Hank growled and Connor did as told.

As the screams faded to gurgles, Connor turned and looked at Hank, eyes wild. The next moment, he was in front of Hank and growling, warning Gavin and Nines away from his human. His hackles were up, head dipped and lips curled back in a bloody snarl. Nines ignored him and stepped closer.

Instantly, Connor was on top of him. The element of surprise and rage gave him the upper hand, and he pinned Nines to the ground by the neck. Even though Nines snapped and snarled, Connor held him down, growling low in his throat. Only once Nines went limp in submission did Connor back away.

“I’m still older than you, brother,” he hissed, returning to Hank’s side.

Gavin stood next to Nines and gave him a less than gentle kick. “Get up, you pitiful bitch. Rolling over for just anyone now, are you? Pathetic...” he muttered before turning to Hank. “You good?”

“I’m good,” Hank nodded. “Get someone in to clean up this mess.”

He watched Gavin and Nines turn primly, ready to sort things out. With a long suffering sigh, he sat back down at the table and turned to the remaining members of the board.

“Anyone else wish to raise a complaint?” he asked. Nobody dared to meet his eyes.

Once the meeting had concluded, Hank put Connor in the car and left with a murmured “I’ll be back.” He had an errand to run, one that Connor couldn’t accompany him for.

In the car, Connor settled down on his cushion. One side had paw-prints on it, the other side bones. It was utterly ridiculous yet he was charmed by it all the same. Hank had bought it especially for him. It was his and only his. There wasn’t anything else that Connor could call solely his own; even what had become known as ‘his’ pillow had originally belonged to Hank.

When Hank returned, Connor curiously sniffed the air around him. Hints of disinfectant, pet food and other dogs clung to him. He’d been to a pet shop.

Something in Connor froze, and his heart stilled at the idea of being replaced. Ears flattened back, he let out an unintentional whine.

“Alright, you impatient mutt, let us get home first.” Hank’s voice was as warm as it ever got; the rumble of it was no different to usual and Connor settled a little. Whatever the outcome of Hank’s secret errand, he had no say in it either way, so he tried to tamp down on the mist of fear that crept through his mind.

At home, Hank let him out of the car and hummed merrily as he opened the front door. An idea was forming in his mind. Before he did anything though, he called Connor to him in the kitchen.

“You were very good today,” he praised with a smile, “and that deserves a reward.”

Deftly, he pulled the choker chain from around Connor’s neck and held back a chuckle. “You look naked like this.”

Putting the old chain on the table, he reached into his pocket and pulled something out, presenting it to Connor and waited a moment for him to inspect it.

In Hank’s hands was a sturdy leather collar. Nothing fancy but it looked comfortable, grounding without the weight of the chains. A buckle did up the ends and, almost without hesitation, Connor dipped his head, ready for it to be put around his neck. From that angle, he caught sight of the tag which declared him as Hank’s property.

“Good boy.” Hank ruffled his hair and laughed as Connor tried to peer down at himself. “There’s a mirror in the bathroom you know.”

Like a shot, Connor was scampering away, eager to preen in front of a mirror and admire his new collar. Hank watched him go and chuckled.

Time for the second part of his plan. On silent feet, he padded to the bedroom and pushed the door almost closed; not entirely shut, just enough to leave a small crack through which prying eyes could peer.

He set a few toys out on the bed and started taking off his clothes. There was no sound from Connor; he was probably too caught up in admiring himself in the mirror. The image of him up on two legs, paws resting on the sink as he tried to reach to look in the mirror was too precious. Hank laughed to himself as he stripped. With a soft groan, he lay back on the bed and got comfortable.

If he guessed right, Connor would be along rather quickly.

Almost lazily, he reached for the lube. There was no need to rush into things. Connor couldn’t have it all immediately anyway; he was going to have to work for it. Hank was two fingers in when the door was nudged open a little with a questioning whine.

“Sit by the door if you want to watch,” he offered and shamelessly worked in a third finger. He had Scorch on the bed next to him, knew that he was going to need to work himself more open if he was going to take a knot. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back, rocking his hips onto his fingers gently.

By the door, Connor pawed at the floor with a panting cry. It spurred Hank on; he eased a fourth finger in and bit back on a groan, but he was getting impatient. Reaching for Scorch, he rolled onto his stomach. There was no missing the shuffling scooch of feet. Looking over his shoulder, Hank snorted.

Connor was pressed up against the bed frame, tongue out and panting as his eyes were zeroed in on Scorch. Little high pitched puffs of breath punched their way out of him as Hank used his fingers to work a little more slick into his hole.

“This could be you, you know,” Hank teased as he spread lube over the toy. “I’m going to be stretched so wide around it. The knot almost as big as yours. If you can be good for me, be patient, I might just let you show me what a real knot feels like.”

Hank was already covered in a fine sheen of sweat. His cock leaked incessantly, enamoured with the idea of being truly knotted. Glancing behind him, he snickered at Connor. From his height, he could see the way Connor’s cock was hanging out, shiny and wet already. Taking pity on him, Hank pulled a sweat soaked pillow from under him and threw it at Connor.

“Don’t you dare come though,” he growled. Hank took a moment to watch as Connor grabbed the pillow, nuzzled into the dampest part with an appreciative inhale before clamping his paws around it and rutting against it. “Good boy.”

The tip of the toy brushed against Hank’s hole and he moaned as he was breached. The temptation to shallowly fuck himself with it until he came was strong but he resisted. Instead, he slowly began to work it deeper into himself, relishing the way the toy opened him up. The ridges teased along his rim, and the texture so much better than his fingers could ever be. He couldn’t resist and pulled it out with a sharp cry as they passed over his muscles in rapid succession. Behind him, Connor was panting harshly.

Slowly, Hank pushed the toy back in, bit down on his arm to keep some of the noises at bay, not sharing the whole of his pleasure with Connor just yet. He rocked back onto the toy and moaned as the knot brushed against his stretched hole.

“This could be you, Connor,” he rasped. Muscles tense, he began to bear down and pushed against the knot, voice breaking as it ever so slowly worked its way into him. He was so close to the widest point, a gentle push and the whole thing lurched into him. Hank dropped his head onto his arm and panted, hips rolling back as he breathed through the stretch.

“Fuck!” he cursed. “Have you been good Connor?”

“Yes!” The reply was more of a desperate bark. “Please Master; let me.”

“Fuck me with the knot for a bit,” Hank ordered and peered over his shoulder. Connor was sleek and graceful as he jumped up onto the bed. His cock was angry and red, hanging heavy between powerful legs, but Hank’s admiration was cut short when Connor nuzzled against the base of the toy before delicately gripping it in his teeth.

Agonisingly slowly, he pulled back just enough for the knot to bulge out before shoving it back in quickly. It made Hank jolt forward and cry out. “Again,” he demanded and delighted when Connor obeyed. Each time, the knot was pulled a little further out and Hank was struggling to catch his breath. When the knot finally popped free, he let out a breathless yowl.

“Think I’m ready for your knot?”

Without prompting, Connor dropped the toy and leaned forward. His tongue swept over Hank’s stretched hole, caught along the edge and pulled it open a little. The small noise of pleasure spurred him on and Connor let his tongue slither past the loose muscle, licked deep into Hank. He enjoyed the way every small shift and quiver could be felt along his tongue.

Feeling Connor lick into him had Hank gasping for breath. His hands fisted in his hair to try and keep grounded. Each lick felt like it went deeper, carefully brushing over all the sensitive areas.

“Fuck, Con, I’m ready,” he panted.

That was all the encouragement Connor needed. He reared up and grabbed Hank’s ribs with his front paws. His cock left a sticky trail along the backs of his thighs until the tip finally caught against Hank’s rim.

Claws left bright red scratches along Hank’s sides but he didn’t care. There was no finesse in Connor’s thrusts; he chased his pleasure without thought for anything else. His thrusts left Hank shaking and rocking, and he needed both arms to brace himself against the brute force. To add to their harsh panting, the tag on Connor’s new collar jangled with each move.

Then, the telltale bulge of a forming knot pulled at his hole, each pass a little more difficult until he was breathless, the knot ripping out of him with brutal force before being shoved back in without mercy. At long last, it was too big to pull out and Connor was whining above him. He leaned down and grabbed the back of Hank’s neck in his jaw, biting down and keeping him in place while grinding his hips against Hank’s until something scorching hot was spilling into him, the knot puffed up beyond anything Hank could have imagined. He let out a harsh cry and trembled as his own cock spurted weakly, coming untouched.

They stayed like that, Connor mounting him, tied together until gradually the knot was deflated enough to slip out of Hank’s quivering hole. There was no doubt in his mind that he was left gaping, unable to close, and leaking.

“Messy,” Connor’s voice was hoarse and his eyes were glued to the way Hank oozed. Without warning, he leaned forward and began to clean up his mess. His tongue laved against the puffy red rim of Hank’s hole at first, lapping up what trickled out. When that was all cleared, he moved to lick deeper into Hank, pulled his cum out with greedy little slurps.

“Such a slut,” Hank chided without any heat. He waited until Connor was satisfied with his work before flopping tiredly onto the clean part of the bed. He peered down at Connor from under an arms thrown over his eyes. There was a serene calm in the room as he settled, curled up at the foot of the bed.

It was good to know that just because Hank had given him permission to knot him didn’t mean that Connor was going to try and change their dynamic. Before he fell into a doze, Hank heard Connor’s voice even though his eyes were shut, “Thank you, Master. For everything.”

With a tired huff, Hank rolled onto his side and murmured softly, “Welcome home, mutt.”

**Author's Note:**

> Made it to the end? Good going! Make sure you check out Blue Snow over on Twitter (@rk8inches) and I'm on tumblr as @connorssock


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